


Do You Remember What Happened Last Night?

by Monkeysock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Case Fic, Humor, M/M, Temporary Amnesia, bed sharing, non-linear storytelling, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 22:39:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10818210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeysock/pseuds/Monkeysock
Summary: Chapter 2: What John Remembered from the Night BeforeNothing.Nothing at all.





	1. A Realization

When John awoke that morning, he felt more than a little hungover. He opened his eyes to see a bedroom he did not recognize. He was wearing a shirt and jeans, his shoes were somewhere out of sight. He would have gotten up to investigate, but his arm was pinned. It was playing pillow to a guest in the bed. Curled up to his side was a mostly nude consulting detective.

“Fuck,” thought John.


	2. What John Remembered from the Night Before

Nothing.

Nothing at all.


	3. Sherlock Wakes Up.

John lay back down. Sherlock stirred next to him. His eyes opened, but he did not move.

“John,” he said.

“Sherlock,” replied John.

“I have the feeling I owe you an apology.”

“For what, exactly?”

Sherlock paused. “I don’t really know.”

John glanced over. From the pained look on Sherlock’s face, he was having a similar level of discomfort from a similar hangover. 

“You don’t remember last night, either?”

Sherlock shook his head, and because he hadn’t gotten up yet, it was effectively nuzzling further into John’s arm. John hadn’t gotten up yet, either. 

There was silence for some time. 

“Where are we?” John eventually asked. Sherlock turned slightly from his tucked position. 

“A hotel.” It was as much as he could glean from his glance.

“And do you have any idea where your trousers are?”

Sherlock turned to the other side of the bed for a moment. “No,” he said, then turned back. 

John glanced down again at Sherlock. There was a blotch of reddishness on him. “What did you do to your collarbone?”

Sherlock touched the area gently with his free hand. He tried to remain dignified. “A hematoma of some description.”

John nodded slightly.

Something else caught John’s eye, and he immediately averted his gaze. “There’s … er… some … errr…stuff… on your pants.”

Sherlock glanced down. If he could have disappeared at that moment, he would have. 

John tried to think of any innocent explanation for their circumstances, but was failing miserably.

“So,” he said.

“So,” agreed Sherlock.

“Clearly something happened … between us last night.” John was trying to organize his thoughts carefully and delicately, but it wasn’t really easily done.

“Meaning, you think we had sex.”

John reeled slightly. “Hey, I don’t know about you, but I’m still fully clothed.” Sherlock was only wearing his pants and oddly, his socks.

“Oh, and I suppose I gave a love bite to myself?”

John blushed. 

There was another moment of silence.

“Do you remember how much we drank last night?” John attempted.

“It doesn’t matter, consumption of alcohol doesn’t typically affect my memory. Clearly something else is at play.”

“Does that change things? I mean, we still ended up …here.” No matter what, they’d never ended up in this situation in the past.

Sherlock didn’t have a good answer for that. He did, however, have something else. He silently swore to himself.

“Sherlock…”

“It is normal to have in mornings. Just ignore it and it will go away.”

John thought for a moment.

“No.”

Sherlock looked at John. “What do you mean, ‘No,’?”

John took a breath. “I mean that last night, something happened and I didn’t get to remember what, and that isn’t fair.”

Sherlock furrowed his brow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I … I would like to jog my memory.”

“John, I have told you everything I know.”

John cautiously rolled so he faced Sherlock. He stared at Sherlock with part-insecurity, part-fascination. “I want to know what it felt like to be with you.” His arms now cradled the concerned Sherlock. It would have been difficult for Sherlock to make his escape, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“This is a bad idea, John. We still don’t know what happened to us.” Sherlock was already leaning in. 

“I only care about what’s going to happen next,” breathed John as their lips finally met.


	4. The Unchecked Message on Sherlock’s Phone

“Sherlock, it’s Lestrade. Ring me when you get up, we’re going to need a statement about the incident at the hotel last night. The chef eventually cracked and admitted to doctoring the soup, we can probably tie him to the murders as well. I hope you don’t mind that we put you in your room, it was closer than the hospital and the paramedics said you two just needed to sleep off the drugs. Anyways, if I don’t hear from you I will check on you in the morning, maybe bring your suit back from the cleaners. Turrah.”


	5. A Second Realization

“That was…” shuttered Sherlock for the fifth time. John lay back on the pillow, sweaty and breathless, a look of pleasure and satisfaction was plastered all over his face. 

“…Amazing?” John said, nuzzling Sherlock for a kiss. Sherlock kissed him softly, but broke away quickly, shaking his head.

“That was not what happened last night.”


	6. The Case

“If we find out which chef is responsible for putting drugs in the food, we can isolate who was the intended target.” Sherlock was posting another sheet of paper on the wall with the dozens already affixed there. “It means we are going to have to go to this hotel.”

“What are we going to do? Barge in and start making accusations?” John said skeptically.

“No, we need to witness a dinner service. The victims have both been estate agents so far, found in the hotel with their throats slashed after ordering a big meal in the hotel’s adjoining restaurant. Tox reports for both of them showed a high amount of some kind of sedative in them. They were murdered after consuming drugged food.”

“I suppose it would make the job easier if they are knocked out.” John admitted.

“Correct.”

“So we’re going to have to go to the restaurant in the hopes of there being an estate agent in the dining room so we can make sure we catch them being poisoned and prevent them from being murdered?” John asked, perplexed.

“Precisely.”

“Where are we going to find an estate agent willing to do that?”

Sherlock handed John a business card. It read: ‘Sherlock Holmes, Real Estate, Birmingham’.

John sighed.


	7. Somewhere, Inside the Mind Palace, A Door is Opened

“What did you mean, that wasn’t what happened last night?” John demanded, sitting upright. Sherlock stretched, covering his eyes with his arm. John frowned. “What is this, some sort of game?”

“No.” Sherlock said softly. “No, I am just now realizing some things.”

“Like what?” John asked, still on the verge of being furious. Sherlock reached to the floor and picked up a discarded business card and showed it to John. It said: ‘Sherlock Holmes, Real Estate, Birmingham’. It also was covered in something crusty. John was about to toss the card aside in revulsion, but stopped when he detected something he couldn’t quite place. He brought the card closer to his face and inhaled. The card was covered in dried leek and potato soup.

Then John realized as well.

“Oh, fuck.”


	8. Always Check Your Phone History

7:08pm Come to Restaurant at once. About to make a move on chef. SH

7:10pm Don’t you dare. L

7:10pm Also, bring ambulance. John and I have been drugged. SH

7:11pm I am on my way. L


	9. Lestrade, Some Hotel Staff and the Paramedics Make Things Better

“He kept asking me about the dessert. He said it was supposed to be the dessert that was drugged, not the soup,” the maître d’ said, helping Lestrade carry Sherlock’s rag doll body down toward the hall.

“Will they be okay?” Lestrade asked the paramedics. 

“If they have the same drug in their system as you suggested, then they should just need to sleep it off,” one of them replied. “Just check on them in a few hours.” The paramedics were carrying John in a similar manner.

“Right. Okay.” Lestrade turned his attention back to the maître d’. “Why is Sherlock covered in soup?” Sherlock’s jacket, shirt and trousers all had a considerable amount of leek and potato soup on them.

“This man fell asleep at the table,” the maître d’ said, indicating John. “After that, this one,” he indicated Sherlock now, “jumped up in alarm and began to take away all the bowls of soup around the dining room, trying to prevent others from eating it. One guest did not take kindly to the suggestion and threw his bowl at him.”

“Those bowls must be heavy, he’s going to have a sizeable bruise on his collarbone.” Lestrade muttered. They continued down the hall.

“Mr. Holmes is checked into room 115, just along here,” the maître d’ explained. There, the hotel’s concierge was waiting with a spare door key. He let them in. It was a comfy room with one extra large bed. 

“Oh, should I see if there is another room nearby?” the concierge asked.

“Don’t bother, they only booked one bed for a reason, if you take my meaning.” Lestrade said. Everyone seemed to understand. The paramedics heaved John on to one side of the bed, taking off his shoes afterwards. Sherlock was still covered in soup, and was entirely dead weight.

“Help me out, guys.” Between the paramedics, the maître d’ and the concierge, they managed to get Sherlock’s wet jacket, shirt and trousers off, leaving him on the bed beside John in only his pants and socks. There was a small spot of soup that made it to Sherlock’s pants, but he’d have to deal with that in the morning.

“You have a dry cleaning service, don’t you?”


	10. The Case, part 2

“Why are you checking into the hotel?” John asked in a hushed tone to Sherlock as the clerk keyed in Sherlock’s information. Sherlock turned away from the desk and replied in an equally hushed tone.

“If I am going to be murdered in a hotel like the previous victims, I need a room.” 

“We live a twenty minute cab ride away!” John admonished.

“No,” he said, holding up a business card, “My offices are based out of Birmingham.”


	11. The Big Decision

Sherlock and John lay in the bed, completely naked, staring at the ceiling. 

“We could just…”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“‘We could just pretend it didn’t happen and go on as normal’?”

There was a brief silence while John considered this.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, then cleared his throat. He reached for his discarded clothes. “I think I will have to leave for a bit. Stay with my sister until we can sort things out.” He sat up holding his trousers. 

Sherlock rolled to his side and watched John gather his things. “I suppose you are right.”

John slowed. He looked back at Sherlock from over his shoulder. “If you think so.”

“Probably.”


	12. The Inevitable

“Fuck it, get over here.”

John grinned, and tossed his clothes aside, returned to the bed and smothered Sherlock with a snog, which Sherlock returned eagerly. 

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://alexxphoenix42.tumblr.com/post/158552086568/john-and-sherlock-were-drugged-and-lestrade-co
> 
> I took the idea from this prompt.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it! It was very fun to put together!


	13. Epilogue

There was a knock at the door.

"Hey they gave me the key at the desk, I'm just here to check that you're okay after last- OH GEEZ," Lestrade choked as he turned on his heels and bolted right out the door he'd just entered.


End file.
